Kiss Me, I'm Irish
by ndj35
Summary: Fun and frolics for Tom, Sasha and the gang on St Patrick's Day. Rated M for smut and wicked green drinks.


_Author's note: This works as a standalone story, but is also set in my Last Step/Next Step universe, sometime after the end of The Next Step. It's a bit of a catch up, I suppose, but as it's mainly just fun and smut, don't worry too much if you haven't read other 'Step' stories – you'll work it out. That said, if you do like to understand where things fit and get an overview, there is now a guide to the 'Step' universe in my profile._

 _This story is for my favourite Irish-Italian-American, for wearing the t-shirt. Stars, baby._

 **Kiss Me, I'm Irish**

Tom Chandler looked at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, and tried not to sigh. He heard his father chuckle and turned to look at Jed, who was reclining on the couch with Ashley and Sam either side of him, and the baby twins in matching bouncy chairs at his feet.

"Tommy, a party doesn't require precision timing, you know."

"I know, Dad." But some habits were hard to break. Besides, it wasn't just about arriving on time, he was also impatient to finally spend a night with his wife without two beautiful but needy babies to take care of.

Finally, Sasha descended the stairs, and Tom couldn't help grinning. His wife was wearing skinny jeans that emphasised her long legs, her hair was falling loose and shiny over the shoulders of her jacket, and then there were those spike heeled boots…

"Stop gawping, sailor, we're going to be late." She smirked slightly and kissed him as she reached the foot of the stairs. "Now you two," She addressed the babies, "Are going to behave for Grandpa, right?" She leaned over and stroked their cheeks in turn, smiling as Amelia tried to grab her finger.

"And you two," Tom added to his elder children, "Are going to help Grandpa with your brother and sister, right?"

"Yes, Dad." Ash rolled her eyes a little, but she was smiling too. Tom and Sasha both knew that despite her teenage snarking, Ash really loved being a big sister to the twins.

Tom finally managed to get Sasha out of the door and into the car, but as he started the engine she shot him a worried look.

"I feel bad." She bit her lip.

"About leaving them?" He asked, reaching over to touch her face, "Sash, it's been eight months-"

"Um," She interrupted, looking even more worried, "No. More… Bad that I'm so happy we're going out without them…" She made an agonised face.

Tom snorted with laughter, and pulled her into his arms as best he could in the confines of the car. "You're allowed to be happy. They're in safe hands, and we're only a couple of miles away. I was worried you were going to bail; I was trying to figure out how to tell Tex."

"Definitely not bailing." Sasha pressed her face into his shoulder for a second and then sat back and put on her seatbelt. "To the party, driver!"

They could hear the music as soon as they pulled into the driveway of Tex and Nina's house, and see flashing green lights inside.

"How many people are invited to this party?!" Tom asked, and Sasha started to laugh.

"According to Nina, just close friends, but with those two, that could be hundreds."

In fact, it wasn't quite as many as that, but as Tom pushed through the throng of people in the living room, Sasha following close behind him, he did marvel at Tex and Nina's capacity for socialising, especially when they had a toddler of their own. Spying the back of Mike Slattery's head in the kitchen, he headed that way, only to run into their host in the doorway.

"Commodore! And Mrs Commodore!" Tex hugged Tom and planted a kiss on Sasha's cheek. "Don't you both look fine."

"As do you." Tom laughed, taking in his friend's outfit. Tex was wearing green from head to toe, including a bright green top hat perched precariously on his head.

"It's St Patrick's Day, we Irish have to celebrate. Come on, you need a drink!"

"Tom! Sasha!" Nina turned from the kitchen table, glasses of something violently green in each hand. "Here, have one of these."

"What-" Tom started, but Nina just laughed and pressed the glass into his hand.

"Don't ask, just drink." Nina's tight black t-shirt had the words 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' emblazoned across the chest, and Tex took the opportunity to do just that as he wrapped his arms around his wife. She pretended to fight him off, laughing. "Stop that, Kansas!" Then she made a gesture to Sasha, who grinned and took off her jacket to reveal an identical t-shirt.

"What do you think, boys?" She gave Tom a cheeky look.

Tom couldn't help but laugh. "Very nice. So that's why you wanted the bedroom to yourself to get dressed."

A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he turned to see Rachel Slattery at his side.

"Hi Tom. Hi Sasha." She leaned in to hug them both. "I recommend not drinking that unless you want to pass out."

"Where's your t-shirt?" Tom asked, and Rachel laughed.

"Not me, no Irish blood at all." She gestured towards Mike, who was standing on the other side of the room, and Tom was astonished to see that he was wearing a matching t-shirt, albeit a lot less form fitting.

"How much persuasion did that take?" Sasha asked, laughing, and Rachel shot her a naughty sort of grin.

"You'd be surprised…"

As the party went on, Tom found himself reminiscing about similar nights with Sasha almost twenty years ago, when they'd been young and reckless and in love. Kind of the Navy equivalent of their college years, he supposed. And now they were married with four kids between them, and he found himself wondering for a second where he would have been tonight if the apocalypse hadn't happened. Probably at sea, turning a blind eye to a muted St Patrick's Day celebration amongst his crew. Or maybe even at home with Darien and the kids, serving green milk at dinner as a nod to the holiday.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts as Mike came and stood beside him, his air of authority somehow not even slightly diminished by his novelty t-shirt.

"Seriously," Tom asked, "How did Rachel get you into that?"

"She has quite the set of persuasive skills." Mike replied with a straight face, before allowing his mouth to quirk into a smile. "You having a good time, Admiral?"

"Stop that." Tom sighed. "I'm still not comfortable with it."

"You better get comfortable." Mike replied with characteristic bluntness. "It was only ever a matter of time. And just because we held the same rank for a while there, didn't ever mean you weren't my boss."

"Yeah." Tom conceded thoughtfully. He was about to say more when Sasha came bouncing up to him, her lips slightly stained from all the green food colouring, and her step just a little unsteady.

"Come and dance!" She wound her arms around his neck, and he glanced around the room automatically. Sure, this was a party, but Mike was right, he was still the boss, and he had to maintain certain standards of behaviour…

Mike rolled his eyes, as though reading Tom's thoughts. "You need to loosen up." He said, giving his friend a shove. "Go dance with your wife."

As Sasha pulled Tom away, Mike looked around for his own wife, frowning slightly when he saw that she wasn't in the room. Pushing his way across the dance floor that had formed in the middle of the living room, he used the advantage of his height to scan the kitchen and couldn't see her there either. Knowing Rachel's complete inability to hold her drink, he had a horrible feeling she might be throwing up somewhere, but then he spotted her through the window, standing outside on the porch.

He changed direction and barged across the dance floor again, making it out through the front door into the cool air. Rachel turned at the sound of his footsteps, but quickly placed her finger over her lips. Intrigued, he catfooted over to her.

"What's going on?" He murmured.

She nodded out into the darkness, and Mike could just make out a couple standing talking beneath a tree at the end of the driveway.

"Rach-" He started, once again cursing his wife's love of gossip, but this time she put her finger over his lips.

He suddenly realised that the male figure under the tree was Wolf Taylor, but he didn't recognise the woman he was with.

"Who's she?" He murmured, and Rachel leaned in close to whisper in his ear, her eyes staying fixed on the couple.

"That's Doctor Riley. She works at the hospital."

He nodded, and wrapped his arm around Rachel's waist, preparing to guide her back inside, but she shook her head and continued to whisper.

"They've had sex twice, but she doesn't know where she stands with him, and-"

"Rachel!" He hissed, tightening his grip on her waist. "This is none of your bus-"

But she stopped him with a finger to his lips again, and then he heard her sigh gently as Wolf wrapped his arms around his blonde companion and began to kiss her, drawing her out of sight behind the tree.

Mike pulled Rachel's finger from his lips. "We are going inside, now." He told her, but instead she reached up and planted her lips on his, her arms twining around him as she pressed close.

"Don't be a spoilsport." She breathed, before kissing him again.

Just before midnight, Tom guided a gently staggering Sasha out of the front door and into the starlit night. Passing Mike and Rachel asleep on the porch swing, he noted that somehow Dr Slattery was now wearing her husband's t-shirt.

Shaking his head with a slight smile, he turned to Sasha as they walked to the car arm in arm.

"Have fun tonight, Mrs Chandler?" He asked, raising an eyebrow when she smiled a little blearily.

"Oh yes, Admiral Chandler. Lots of fun." She opened the car door and half fell into the passenger seat, giggling. "And I'm as bad as Rachel now. Two drinks and I'm done."

Tom laughed as he closed her door and walked around the car to settle in the driver's seat. "Next time you can be the designated driver, then."

"Deal." She rested her hand on his thigh and smiled as they pulled out of the driveway, "I'm not really drunk, you know. Just… happy."

"Good to know." He smirked, but then swerved just a little as her hand crept upwards. "Sasha! Let me get us home first!"

She giggled again and withdrew her hand. "Aye aye, sir."

The house was in darkness as they pulled up outside, and although they both listened out for crying as Tom quietly opened the front door, the only sound they heard was Jed's gentle snoring from the couch.

"Should we wake him?" Sasha whispered, and Tom shook his head, taking her hand instead and leading her up the stairs as they both tried hard to make as little noise as possible.

The doors to Ashley and Sam's rooms were both shut, but they paused for a moment in the doorway of the nursery to look at the peacefully - or should that be miraculously - sleeping twins.

"Come on," Sasha said softly after a few moments, tugging on Tom's hand. "Let's make the most of it."

They tiptoed up the second flight of stairs to their attic bedroom, which was softly lit by moonlight coming through the skylight windows. Sasha shrugged off her jacket and turned to face him, the words on her t-shirt still visible in the dim light as she kicked off her boots and unbuttoned her jeans.

"That really is a nice shirt." Tom said softly, admiring the way the thin fabric clung to his wife's figure. Having the twins had added just a little more curve here and there, and he loved it.

Sasha gave him a naughty look, and sashayed a little closer, now wearing only the t-shirt and her underwear, her hands playing with the hem. "You must obey the power of the t-shirt." She said, reaching out and wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's the St Patrick's equivalent of mistletoe."

"Ah, I see." He pretended to think about it for a moment. "Guess I'd better do as I'm told then." He lowered his head and kissed her softly, but Sasha had other ideas, tugging his lower lip with her teeth and deepening the kiss as she pressed tight against him.

"Off." She demanded, tugging at his shirt, and he leaned back quickly to oblige, pulling it over his head as she undid his jeans.

"Sash-" He started, but she stopped him with another kiss.

"Babies." She supplied, speaking between kisses. "Will. Wake up. Soon. So make it. Count."

He couldn't fault the logic, so he surrendered by shedding the rest of his clothes as requested, and quickly divested Sasha of her t-shirt and bra for good measure before lifting her onto the bed, stifling her gasp of surprise with another kiss.

He kissed her shoulder, nibbled lightly at the sensitive skin of her neck, feeling her hands running over his back as he teased her just a little, his lips moving lower as she arched into his touch. He was gentle as he stroked her breasts - even though she was no longer nursing, he still felt a little cautious - but she moaned softly and he took that as licence to flick her nipples with his tongue before progressing downwards over the soft curve of her belly, the tattoo on her hip, and then as he grasped the sides of her panties, he registered what was written on the front of them and couldn't suppress a burst of laughter.

He clapped his hand over his mouth and looked up at Sasha, who had raised her head and was giggling almost silently, her shoulders shaking a little. He looked down at the panties again, and read those familiar words: _Kiss me, I'm Irish_.

Still chuckling, he took hold of them again and yanked them firmly down and off. "Your wish is my command." He told her, before parting her thighs with his hands and burying his head between her legs.

Her laughter was quickly replaced by soft gasps as he tongued her gently, enjoying the unique taste of her, but before he knew it she was pulling at his shoulders, sliding down the bed, and he gave in and rose up to kiss her before sliding slowly inside her, unable to prevent a groan from escaping him at the feel of it.

"Tom…" She murmured, her head tipping back, and he kissed her jaw and her collarbones as he rocked into her, her legs wrapping around him to hold him deep inside as she trembled and cried out, "Please…"

Part of him wanted to hold back, but she'd been right about the babies, this was already borrowed time, so he grabbed her hips and drove deep, letting out a harsh groan of his own as she clenched around him. He kept moving like that, watching her face flush as she whimpered, and then she suddenly arched, gasping his name as she shattered, sending him over the edge with her, his head dropping to kiss her shoulder as he spent himself inside her.

After a few moments, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, tucking her into his side, her head resting on his chest.

"Mmmm." She said softly, and he raised his hand to stroke her hair back from her face.

"Mmmm, huh?"

"Definitely mmmm." He felt her smile against his shoulder.

"Where did you get those panties?" He asked a little while later, his eyes moving to where they lay discarded at the end of the bed.

"Same place as the t-shirts. Novelty shop in the city." She raised her head and grinned at him, "You know, they also have some very interesting boxer shorts…"

 **THE END**


End file.
